Today, am American in Paris. The University of Houston's College of Engineering
presents this series about the machines that make our civilization
run, and the people whose ingenuity created them.

Years ago, I did a program on Eugene Bullard,
first Black pilot. Bullard managed to leave his hard life in early 20th-century
Georgia, stow away on a merchant ship, take up boxing in Europe, then join the
French Foreign Legion during the early days of WW-I. He was wounded near Verdun,
and he won the Croix de Guerre.

When he recovered, he got into flying school, then became part of the Lafayette
Escadrille. He flew twenty missions in a new SPAD fighter and shot down a couple
of German planes. Then America joined the war and an American officer demanded
he be removed -- since a Black pilot might hurt American morale.

This son of a former slave had proved to be a good friend to his ivy-league companions
in the flying service. He was, after all, at least as intelligent, and possessed of
unusual charm and verve to boot. During his years as a noted European prize fighter,
he'd learned to speak both French and German. Within the military that gave him extra
value as an interpreter. And it certainly served him very well afterward.

The Armistice found Bullard a war hero in France -- but just another Black man in American
eyes. So he stayed in Paris and found an apartment in Montmartre. Paris had picked up
the jazz craze well before the war, and Montmartre was now a jazz center.

Bullard's remarkable learning ability had made him first a prize fighter, then a combat
pilot. Now he studied to become a jazz drummer. He was soon a major figure in that
expatriate world -- a player, a booking agent, a physical trainer, and a club manager.

Eventually, he managed the club, Le Grand Duc -- frequented by the likes of F. Scott
Fitzgerald. He really knew them all -- Langston Hughes, Josephine Baker, Salvador Dali.
He was a close friend of Arthur "Dooley" Wilson. We remember him as Sam, singing
As Time Goes By in the movie Casablanca. Ernest Hemingway made Bullard
into a character in his book, The Sun Also Rises.

Eventually, the NAZIs came. Bullard briefly rejoined the French army, was wounded once
more, and finally fled through Spain back to America. There he finished his life as an
elevator operator in Rockefeller Center.

Today, we see his portrait in the National Air and Space Museum. We say,
"Isn't that wonderful" and move on to the next display. But to catch the magnitude of
the person, we need to follow this remarkable, fully-researched book about Bullard's
Paris years.

When author Lloyd takes Bullard out of his airplane and puts him in a society of equals,
we see just how large this remarkable man really was. His few months as a pilot begin
to look like a mere hiccup in a life lived far more fully than most of ours.

I'm John Lienhard at the University of Houston,
where we're interested in the way inventive minds
work.

A painting of Eugene Bullard with his SPAD VII. Note his personal motto on the fuselage: "All blood runs red" or, as he
actually wrote it, Tout le Sang qui coule est rouge! Both images are courtesy of Wikipedia Commons.